


free and alone, together

by srididdledeedee



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/F, and so the divorce piece canon begins to see the light of day in the written realm...., bittersweet but overall very hopeful, buggy and alvida were previously married in this au i don't want that to sneak up on readers, but they are in fact divorced, self love, this takes place during the timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srididdledeedee/pseuds/srididdledeedee
Summary: “Oh,” Hancock says.  “What’s that like?”“Loving myself?” Alvida asks, and Hancock nods.  There’s sadness in Alvida’s eyes, but it’s not pity.  “It’s freeing.”-In which Alvida arrives on Amazon Lily, and everything changes.
Relationships: Alvida/Boa Hancock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	free and alone, together

**Author's Note:**

> https://slydiddledeedee.tumblr.com/post/623410538133716992/divorce-piece  
> for reference

_beauty  
n.  
_ _the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit._

Boa Hancock knows she is the most beautiful woman in the world. How could she not? She’s been told as much for the last decade of her life, and those around her inform her that age was only making her more attractive. 

Hancock tries not to actively think about beauty. _Looks aren’t everything,_ she reminds herself, but she knows better than anyone that they aren’t _nothing,_ either. It doesn’t matter, in the end. She is the most beautiful woman in the world, and there’s nothing to be done about that.

Beauty is a protection. She’s luckier than most—she doesn’t have to put her armor on, day after day. It never leaves her, and in a way, she is always safe.

The mark of the celestial dragons burns on her back. Safe is fine. Safe is more than fine.

Hancock likes being safe—it’s one of the few things she can say she honestly likes. She likes her sisters—she loves her sisters. They had been through too much, and Hancock never wants them to hurt like that again.

She likes her job. She likes to sail, to see the open ocean, to taste the salty air and feel her hair blow behind her. She has hated every single person she has met while sailing, without exception. Men and women fall over themselves at the sight of her, desperate to feel her gaze on them. Not everyone is like that, but they are few and far between, and they aren’t free from her spite. There is always something to be criticized. There is always something ugly within them.

She has become softer since she had first met Luffy. She hopes she’s become softer, anyway. She will never be the kindest woman in the world, and she doubts she will ever be the freest, but it was possible to exist without being the _most_ at something. She could start by being a little kind. She could try to be a little more free.

Being free, she finds, was a combination of actually talking to others, and genuinely being alone. She had spent the majority of her life only really talking to her sisters, and even then, Sandersonia and Marigold absolutely idolized her. It wasn’t the same as having a conversation. The Kuja hang onto her every word, the Marines are too busy agreeing with whatever she says to listen to her. Talking to others is a challenge as the most beautiful woman in the world.

Being alone, really alone, is much easier.

Amazon Lily is not without its hiding places, and a short note was often enough to placate her crew when she needs a day to herself. She walks around the island, exploring caves, climbing trees, and just enjoying the solitude. It wasn’t complete freedom, and she was too aware of the expectations and duties weighing on her, but it was a start.

She misses Luffy. She misses his freedom and his energy and his absolute hope for a better and brighter tomorrow. Hancock hopes Rayleigh is taking care of him, and she selfishly wishes there was someone to take care of her. 

She doesn’t need someone to take care of her. It doesn’t stop the longing.

It’s during one of her walks around Amazon Lily that she sensed the new woman land on its beaches. Hancock frowned, though there was no one around to see her. The Kuja should have stopped anyone, even a woman, from reaching the shore, but the presence is undeniable. Hancock is more curious than anything—a sign of growth, maybe, that she isn’t immediately enraged—and starts walking towards the woman. Her haki is nothing compared to Hancock’s, but that isn’t unusual. It would certainly make sneaking up on her easier.

Hancock emerges from the forest at a ledge overlooking the beach, and she hears the woman before she sees her.

“Goddamn son of a bitch asshole—”

Hancock looks down. The woman is down there, and Hancock’s breath catches in her throat.

She’s _gorgeous._ If Hancock wasn’t positive she was the most beautiful woman in the world, this woman would give her second thoughts. Hell, the woman _was_ giving her second thoughts—curly dark hair, a cinched waist, toned arms, and full lips drawn into a scowl. Hancock can’t look away.

The clown-themed rowboat is a bit of a surprise. The woman drags it out of the sea, careful to avoid the tide. She swears again, “Fucking seawater,” and Hancock takes that to mean she’s a Devil Fruit user. She wonders what power the woman contains—will she transform into a great beast? Does her silky smooth skin dissipate into an element? Or is she like Hancock, with a devastating power to alter others? 

The woman meets Hancock’s eyes, and she yelps.

“Oh, shit!” She exclaims.

Hancock draws herself to her full height, and she jumps down from the ledge. She glares down at the woman, because that’s all she knows how to do. “You will state your business with the Kuja Pirates on Amazon Lily.”

“The Who-ja?” The woman asks. “Look, lady, me and my crew have been sailing around the Calm Belt for days now, I just came to see if there was any fresh water here.”

“Your crew?” Hancock asks. She can barely process the fact that the woman doesn’t know who the Kuja Pirates are. “How did you make it this far into the calm belt without being attacked by Sea Kings?”

“We got a doohickey on the ship,” Alvida says, pointing off into the distance—and sure enough, on the horizon there’s a ship, waving a flag Hancock doesn’t recognize. “We take turns pedaling it, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. It keeps the big Sea Kings away, and we deal with the smaller ones as they come to us.” She raises an eyebrow. “My turn. What the hell is your problem?”

Hancock blinks. “My problem?”

“You look like you just smelled something rotten,” the woman says. She sniffs under her arm and makes a face. “Oh, jeez, maybe I do smell that bad.”

“Who are you? What crew do you sail with?” Hancock asks. The glare has been replaced with something hesitant, something she hopes is friendly. “Are you here as a friend or an enemy?”

“Lady, I’m here as someone who’s hungry and thirsty,” the woman says. “Name’s Alvida.”

“Alvida?” Hancock repeats.

“As in Iron-Mace,” Alvida says with a smirk. “You may have seen my wanted posters around? Came from the East Blue to make my fortune on the Grand Line.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” Hancock says bluntly.

Alvida feigns a wince. “Wow, way to hurt my feelings.” She looks up at the trees. “This is some island you got here. I’m assuming the presence of someone living here _does_ mean you have fresh water?”

Hancock bristles. “Aren’t you going to ask my name?!”

“Oh, of course, don’t let me forget my manners while I’m dying of thirst,” Alvida says sarcastically. “By all means, what’s your name?”

“It’s Hancock,” she says proudly. _“Boa_ Hancock.”

“So we both don’t know each other!” Alvida says in faux surprise, and her face returns to a scowl. “Listen, I just want to get some water and get back to my ship.”

Hancock could splutter. Alvida doesn’t know who she is? She doesn’t even recognize her _name?_ “Are you literate?”

“Excuse me?” Alvida asks.

“I asked if you could read,” Hancock says.

Alvida’s face darkens, and she closes the distance between herself and Hancock, sticking a finger in her face. “Lady, you’re lucky I don’t have the temper of some pirates, because you’d be getting a face full of my fist. Yes, I can fucking read.”

The woman is taller than her. Hancock hadn’t realized it when she was on the ledge, but now that Alvida is right in front of her, it’s obvious. Strangely enough, Hancock doesn’t have the urge to throw her own head back and look down on her. 

“There are pirates out there who can’t,” Hancock says. “It was an honest question.”

“Me and my crew are almost out of _water,”_ Alvida emphasizes. “Can other questions insulting my intelligence wait?”

Hancock hasn’t felt this invigorated since she snuck Luffy into Impel Down. “I suppose.” She brushes her bangs out of her face. “I can lead you to a river deeper in the island, if you’d like.”

Alvida’s eyes narrow, but she gives a sharp nod. “I’d appreciate that.”

Alvida isn’t the talkative type. She’s noisy—scoffs and grunts and swears—but she doesn’t talk. Hancock has never had the burden of conversation fall upon her, and words catch in her throat as she tries to speak to Alvida. She keeps an eye out for the Kuja—Alvida is no man, but any stranger on Amazon Lily is treated with suspicion. Hancock doesn’t want that. 

They get to the river, and Alvida doesn’t even bother to cup her hands to drink. She thrusts her face into the water, comes up for air, and then returns to drinking. Her hair hangs around her face, dripping wet, and when she comes up for the last time, the water splashes on her shirt. Her lipstick is nearly entirely washed off. Hancock can’t stop staring.

Alvida pulls out a baby Den Den Mushi from her pocket. “Guys? Guys, it’s me. There’s water here, come dock—”

“No!” Hancock shouts. The word echoes through the forest.

Alvida stares at her. There’s a voice from the Den Den Mushi, tinny and annoyed, but Hancock can’t make out the words it’s saying because of the rush of blood in her ears.

“There are—no men allowed on the island,” she says, desperately trying to salvage the situation.

“What?” Alvida asks.

“There are no men allowed on the island,” Hancock repeats, more sure of himself.

“They’re going to die of thirst!” Alvida exclaims.

“I will send out a ship to provide them with water,” Hancock says. “But they cannot dock. I forbid it.”

“What are you, queen of the island?” Alvida asks, incredulous.

The fantasy is crashing down. Hancock knew it couldn’t last long, but she mourns it anyway. “Yes.”

“Seriously?” Alvida asks. She gestures at Hancock’s head. “Where’s your crown, huh?”

Hancock is at a loss for words. “I—”

“What kind of queen are you, with no crown?” Alvida taunts.

“I _am_ a queen!” Hancock insists, resisting the childish urge to stamp her foot on the ground. “I am an _empress!_ If they dock, I’ll turn them all to stone!”

She sounds downright petulant. She doesn’t know what Alvida is doing to her. She doesn’t want the feeling to stop.

“Turn them to stone?” Alvida asks. “If you could do that, why haven’t you done that to me yet, huh?”

“Well—!” Hancock sputters. “You’re—a woman! You’re a beautiful woman!”

Something in Alvida’s eyes changes. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Hancock’s face heats. “I—I mean—simply objectively—yes.” _You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’m supposed to be the most beautiful woman in the world._

“Huh,” Alvida says. She looks at Hancock, _really_ looks at her, and Hancock suddenly feels insecure. “You’re not too bad yourself, empress.”

Hancock’s heart _soars._

Alvida brings the baby Den Den Mushi back to her mouth. “Buggy, it’s Alvida again. Don’t bother docking. The queen of the island is going to send water out to help us.”

 _“The what?"_ The snail asks. 

“Hanging up now, don’t dock or you’ll regret it!” Alvida barks, then shoves the snail back into her pocket. She raises her eyebrows at Hancock. “An island without men doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

Alvida doesn’t treat Hancock any differently, even as they walk back to the village and the Kuja fall at Hancock’s feet. Hancock feels like her heart will burst out of her heart. She’s terrified everyone on the island can see her emotions spelled out on her face, terrified that the spell will break and Alvida will be mindlessly enamored with her, terrified that Alvida will look at her and feel nothing. 

Marigold and Sandersonia are silent. Alvida whistles lowly at them.

“Hell of a group you’ve got here,” she comments, breaking the silence.

Hancock can see some of the Kuja stiffen at their empress being spoken to so casually, and she puts her armor back on. “They’re all very capable, and only the strongest sail. How much water does your crew need?”

Alvida’s face scrunches up. “Math has never been my thing. Maybe twenty barrels? How long does it take to get out of the Calm Belt from here?”

“We will provide them with twenty barrels and an escort to the Grand Line,” Hancock says coolly. “Understand, Marigold? Sandersonia?”

“Yes, Hancock,” they say in unison. Hancock nods sharply at them and escorts Alvida into the palace.

It’s empty, except for the two of them. Hancock is incredibly aware of the fact. 

“You’re a really big deal, aren’t you?” Alvida asks. Her voice echoes around the chamber. “You weren’t just making that up.”

Hancock tries to shrug effortlessly, a motion she’s performed countless times before, but it feels stiff and awkward. “Why would I lie?”

“People lie for all sorts of reasons,” Alvida says. “Sometimes it’s to protect themselves. Sometimes it’s to protect the people they care about.”

“Do you have lots of experience being lied to?” Hancock asks.

“Yeah,” Alvida says. “Did you know that betrayal hurts like a son of a bitch?”

Hancock shakes her head. “I haven’t been betrayed recently.”

“That’s good,” Alvida says. “I don’t recommend it.” She cocks her head to the side. “Have you betrayed anyone recently?”

Hancock bites her lip. “In a way.”

“Huh.” Alvida crosses her arms, frowning. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” Hancock says.

“Do you think you’ll be forgiven?” Alvida asks.

“Yes.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because I’m beautiful,” Hancock whispers. “Every single thing I have done wrong in my life, I have been forgiven because I am beautiful.”

Alvida nods. “At least you know that much.” She glances around. “Who did you betray?”

“The government,” Hancock answers. A grin creeps across Alvida’s face.

“Well, that’s different, isn’t it?” She says.

“Is it?” Hancock asks.

“The government doesn’t have feelings,” Alvida says, taking her hat off. “The government can’t cry over a broken heart. The government throws people in prison and reorganizes lives without a care in the world. The government deserves to be betrayed.”

Hancock stares at her—at her fierce eyes, her trembling lips. “Would you like to stay here, on this island, with me?”

Alvida considers the offer, then gives a minute nod. “If that’s alright with you, being queen and everything. It would be good for me to stay here for a few weeks.”

“You can stay for as long as you’d like,” Hancock says, and prays she isn’t making a mistake. 

* * *

_love  
_ _n.  
_ _strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties; attraction based on sexual desire: affection and tenderness felt by lovers._

Alvida stays on Amazon Lily. She doesn’t wear the clothes of the Kuja, choosing her cropped shirts and long capris instead. She sticks by Hancock’s side, friendly enough with the other women, but not open. She starts joining Hancock on her walks.

Hancock has her first kiss at twenty-nine years old, sitting on the beach where Alvida had first docked. Alvida is leaning against her, and when Hancock shifts, Alvida moves, and suddenly their faces are inches away from each other. It doesn’t take much for Hancock to close the distance.

(It takes enough—it takes courage, and ignoring the screaming in her own head that Alvida doesn’t want her, and the giddiness of having a woman like Alvida next to her, and pushing away the worry that she’ll kiss Alvida and she’ll simply disappear.)

“Wow,” Alvida says, breathless, when they break apart. “You’re a hell of a better kisser than my ex-husband.”

Those words aren’t meant to wound Hancock, but they do. “Your what?”

“Soon to be ex-husband,” Alvida corrects.

“Because of me?” Hancock asks, horrified.

Alvida laughs out loud. “No, not because of you! Jeez, do you think one little kiss could get me to leave someone?” 

Hancock doesn’t voice her thoughts, because her answer is _yes._

“No, we decided a little while ago,” Alvida says. “He got carted off to prison, and I was sailing around looking for him, and he met someone else. We had a huge fight about it when he came back with his new sidepiece.”

“I’ve never had anything like that happen to me,” Hancock says. “I’ve never been married.” _I’ve never felt this way about anyone, let alone a man._

“You’re better for it,” Alvida says wisely. “Can we go back to kissing? Talking about that clown is an absolute mood killer.”

“Please,” Hancock says breathlessly, and just like that, they are.

She and Alvida learn each other well. Hancock knows the curve of Alvida’s breast, the feel of her breath on her neck, the sound of her footsteps. She knows her laugh and her frown and her hair askew on top of her head, without a care in the world. Hancock still has many cares tied to the world, but with Alvida, she can let some of them go. 

Hancock hasn’t thought about love much in her life. It always seemed so fickle. It was something everyone had and was willing to give her in excess, but it was never an action she received. She knew lust—lust was open mouths and eyes raking up and down her body. Lust was embarrassment rising to her cheeks, funneled into a prideful image of herself so she didn’t have to ponder what people wanted to _do_ to her. Lust was dangerous and volatile, and that’s why it was so easy to turn people to stone.

Alvida experiences lust—she’s vocal enough about it—but it’s different. It’s softer. It’s _wanting,_ wanting Hancock, not just looking and taking and seeking self-satisfaction.

“You’re not good at giving, are you?” Alvida asks one night. They’re lying next to each other, clothes long forgotten, under a thin sheet to keep warm. 

“Giving what?” Hancock asks.

“Yourself,” Alvida says.

“I’ve never given myself away before,” Hancock says.

“You haven’t done a lot, I think,” Alvida says, propping herself up on her elbow. “Anyway, it’s not giving yourself _away._ That makes you sound like—like, I don’t know, an object or something. It’s just giving, you know?”

Hancock chuckles. “Isn’t part of ‘giving,’ keeping?”

Alvida shakes her head. “Giving yourself is about trust. You may think someone’s keeping part of you, but they’re not. It’s all—” She pokes Hancock’s chest. “—in here.”

“My breast?” Hancock laughs.

“Your _heart,_ you absolute tool,” Alvida says, but she’s laughing, too. “Or your soul, if you prefer.”

“What’s the difference?” Hancock asks.

“Oh, don’t get me philosophical in bed,” Alvida moans. “You’re the devil.”

“No, really, what’s the difference?” Hancock presses. “What do you think?”

Alvida pouts at her. “Why do I have to think? Why don’t you think for once, huh?”

Hancock rolls her eyes. “Fine. A soul is what makes a person a person. A heart is what lets a person love.”

“Seems pretty simplistic,” Alvida says. “Did you grow up on a lot of fairy tales?”

“No,” Hancock says, shaking her head. “Now you answer. What makes a heart different from a soul?”

“Hmm,” Alvida says, pondering the question. “I think it’s how they hurt. A heart can break, but a soul will shatter.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Did _you_ grow up on fairy tales?” Hancock asks, turning Alvida’s question back on her.

“Yeah,” she says. “But part of growing up with fairy tales is that you grow up, you know? You stop believing in destiny and soulmates and true love, and you play with the hand you’re given.”

Hancock doesn’t believe in fairy tales about destiny, or soulmates, or true love, but being with Alvida makes her want to believe. She wants to be Alvida’s first and only, even though she knows it’s impossible. She wants what she has with Alvida to be special, to be different from all other love in the world. 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” Alvida says. “Everyone feels like they’re inventing something new when they’re in love. I’ve felt that way before.”

“Did you love him?” Hancock asks softly.

“I did,” Alvida says. “I did at the time, anyway.”

“Why?” Hancock asks.

“I don’t know,” Alvida replies. “He wasn’t so bad, you know? He made me laugh sometimes, and he wasn’t such a dick, deep down inside.”

“Oh,” Hancock says. “Did he love you?”

“Yes,” Alvida says without hesitation.

“How did you know?”

Alvida smiles, small and sad. “He said he liked my freckles.”

“You don’t have any freckles,” Hancock says. She should know, she’s spent enough time staring at Alvida’s face.

“I did before I ate the Smooth-Smooth Fruit,” Alvida says. “They just slid right off, along with…everything else.”

“Oh,” Hancock says. Nothing else seems appropriate. “Do you miss it? Not having eaten your Devil Fruit?”

“Do you?” Alvida asks, not answering the question.

“No,” Hancock says. “I was nothing before my Devil Fruit. I was less than nothing.”

“You were beautiful, weren’t you?” Alvida asks.

Hancock’s back burns. “I was. It wasn’t a gift back then.”

“Mm,” Alvida says, and wraps her arm around Hancock’s waist. “I miss it as much as I don’t miss it. I miss knowing that people liked me for who I was, not just what I looked like. I miss not being underestimated.” She sighs. “I don’t miss getting stared at, getting _judged_ when I walked down the street. As if I didn’t know how big I was, as if I didn’t buy my own clothes. People hated that I was fat and that I was happy being fat. They tried everything they could to make me miserable.”

“Were you?” Hancock asks, and her voice is small, timid. “Miserable?”

Alvida looks at her. “Everyone is miserable sometimes.”

“Did becoming beautiful make you less miserable?”

“I was beautiful before. Eating that stupid fruit just made me palatable to other people,” Alvida says sharply, and it stabs Hancock in the heart. She’s said the wrong thing again. “I didn’t care if they didn’t love me. I loved myself.”

“Oh,” Hancock says. “What’s that like?”

“Loving myself?” Alvida asks, and Hancock nods. There’s sadness in Alvida’s eyes, but it’s not pity. “It’s freeing.”

* * *

_freedom_  
_n.  
the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action; liberation from slavery or restraint or from the power of another; the quality or state of being exempt or released._

“Where will you go?” Hancock asks her. Alvida is getting dressed in her crop top and long capris for the last time on Amazon Lily.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Sabaody,” Alvida says. “You’re taking me there, you ought to know by now.”

“After that,” Hancock says softly. “After everything is final. What then?”

Alvida cocks her head to the side. “I’ll keep sailing. I don’t have to find Roger’s treasure, but I won’t stop being a pirate.”

“Will you come back?” Hancock asks. She sounds desperate. She doesn’t care.

“I don’t know,” Alvida answers. “Will you stay here?”

Amazon Lily is Hancock’s home. How could she leave?

“I don’t know,” Hancock says. “I want to sail. I want to experience the beautiful parts of the world.”

“You could come with me,” Alvida says. Hancock shakes her head.

“I can’t,” she says. “There are some things I need to do alone.”

“Being alone isn’t being free,” Alvida says.

Hancock doesn’t know how to make her understand. She wants to be alone, she wants to find herself, and she wants to find Alvida again. She needs the solitude. She doesn’t think Alvida has ever needed solitude as much as Hancock needs it. She simply says, “I think you’re wrong.”

Alvida doesn’t argue. She slings her bag over her shoulder and offers Hancock her hand. “Come on. We better get going.”

Hancock looks behind her, to Amazon Lily, to the Kuja waving her off. She can’t abandon her home.

 _But,_ she thinks, _if I can never leave my home, it’s no better than a prison._

Boa Hancock is a warlord, and an empress, and a woman in love. Boa Hancock is the most beautiful woman in the world, and she is not the kindest, and she is not the freest. She watches Amazon Lily fade over the line of the horizon, Alvida’s shoulder pressed against her own.

“I want to go to the South Blue,” she says. “I’ve never been.”

“Me neither,” Alvida says. “Never been to any Blue besides the East, honestly.”

“Would you go back?” Hancock asks.

“‘Course I would,” Alvida says. 

“Would you go with me?” Hancock asks. 

Alvida smiles. “If you’d let me.”

Hancock leaves Alvida at Sabaody with a kiss and a promise, and she sets off for the vast, endless ocean, alone and free.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, hurry, leave me, I can’t breathe  
> Please don't say you love me  
> (My heart feels like it’s bursting)  
> \- Mitski, First Love/Late Spring


End file.
